Chapter Twenty
A Picnic with Friends
Turned out that Miss June didn’t have any trouble getting a crew of four of her girls together to help Cal out. The following day, she had Cook put together a picnic basket for Cal and the children, determined to treat them to a good meal and a pleasant outing.
The day dawned clear and warm. Oscar and I had bathed and shaved after our surprising encounter the night before, and first thing that morning, Miss June has taken out my stitches and declared me healed.
I barely noticed the injury anymore, except for some itching on the surface now and then.
Miss June had said that was from the new skin growing, so ’twas a good sign.
I’d have a scar but ’twould be small and even, thanks to her expert care.
Once we got this thing with Cal sorted, Oscar and I could be on our way home.
I missed Port Essington like I’d not missed any place in my whole sorry life.
The winter we’d spent together there, with Clarence and Irene close by, and building our house with Tim and Carson in the spring, had been the most rewarding eight months I’d ever spent, anywhere.
I reckoned Oscar was missing our home and our friends as well.
We had Gus hitch up Willow and Dixie to the wagon that Miss June kept for emergencies. Oscar rode Onyx, and Trick and I went in the wagon. I figured little Lizzie would shed some tears if she couldn’t have another ride on Oscar’s sweet black horse today.
When we got to the homestead, Miss June and the girls went inside and me, Oscar and Trick hung back by the horses. After a few moments, Cal emerged from the house with the children, regarding us with a caution I still found difficult to fathom.
Cal should trust us. There was no reason, that I knew of, for Cal to be so wary—which made me sure that something had happened, and she wasn’t owning up to whatever it was that had made her like this and had traumatized her children in the barn.
But ’twas a delicate situation, and Miss June had said to let her handle it, so we would pretend everything was fine and treat Cal and the kids to a lovely outdoor lunch on this gorgeous summer day.
Miss June came outside once she had got the girls working and joined us.
Lizzie was already clamoring to ride Onyx, so Oscar lifted her onto the mare’s back, while Miss June and Trick laid out the checkered picnic blanket on the grass.
We set up by the stand of trees, so we weren’t anywhere near the cursed barn.
Cal settled herself down on the blanket, with Sam in her arms and Peter beside her, and eyed the substantial wicker basket with interest. Miss June and I exchanged a glance.
I reckoned Cal was hungrier than the children, for ’twas obvious she put them first and herself last, which was what a good parent was supposed to do.
Samuel squirmed, cried and seemed to want to get out of Cal’s grasp.
From what I knew of children, which wasn’t much, he was at an age that meant he didn’t want to be still.
But once Miss June opened up that picnic basket and started unwrapping all manner of foodstuffs, that child got quiet, his eyes went big as saucers and drool dripped down his tiny chin.
He gave a little whimper and sat down hard on the blanket beside Cal, his mouth open, as if he couldn’t even comprehend what was being laid out in front of him.
’Twas the saddest thing I’d ever seen, apart from the way that Oscar had wolfed down that supper I’d provided him, when he’d been down on his luck in Dawson City.
Although there were things about my past I would have liked to have changed, I was grateful that I’d never gone through periods of intense hunger.
There had always been something, even if ’twas criminal acts that had provided the means for the grub we ate.
“ Cheese , Momma,” Peter said, in a hushed voice, gazing at the slab of cheese that Miss June put onto a plate with grapes beside it. There were three big loaves of wheat bread, too, a jar of olives and some cured meat.
“Would anyone like some lemonade?” Miss June asked, as if throwing picnics was her line of work. She held up a steel flask that glistened in the light of the sun.
Three hands rose into the air, so I figured these children had been to school on occasion.
Miss June smiled and poured the lemonade into a tin cup that she passed to Lizzie.
“Have a few sips and give it to your brother, Lizzie. Then I’ll fill it again, and Cal can give some to Sam and have some for herself.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie said as she wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip. Her eyes flew wide, and she tipped the cup, drinking down every drop before she knew she was doing it. Her expression faltered when she lowered the cup and realized ’twas empty, but Miss June only smiled.
“My, you were thirsty, weren’t you?” she said. “Give the cup to Peter now, and I’ll fill it for him.”
Lizzie did as she was told, licking her lips with a dazed expression on her doll-like face.
Oscar and I had a metal flask of our own, with something nicer than lemonade in it, which we shared with Trick.
Peter drank the lemon and sugar concoction carefully, with his eyes closed. When he lowered his cup and opened them, they held more delight and happiness than I’d ever seen.
“That tastes like sunshine,” he said.
I glanced at Oscar. Oscar had made the same comparison about the oranges we had at Christmas at Clarence’s and Irene’s, and the memory of that fine day came back to me.
We hadn’t expected to spend the holiday with anyone, but Irene had invited us, and we’d ended up forming a strong friendship with the two of them. I missed them terribly.
“Is your lemonade as good as this?” Peter asked, nodding at the flask Trick was swigging from.
She passed it to me with a smile. “Oh yeah. Our lemonade is real good, too. Might be a tad stronger than the stuff you got.”
Oscar grinned as I took a swig, the soft burn of the whiskey going down my throat.
“Here, give me some of that tasty, strong lemonade, Jimmy. I need to wet my whistle,” Oscar said.
I wanted to say something saucy back to him, and Trick seemed to be expecting it, but I remembered in time that we were surrounded by innocent ears.
“Here, then. Don’t drink it all.”
Peter laughed, and Oscar rolled his eyes.
“See what I gotta put up with?” he said to Peter. “This man thinks he’s my pa or somethin’.”
I laughed but stopped when I saw Peter’s reaction to that word. The boy cringed, and Cal put a hand to his arm for comfort.
“Jimmy would make a fine pa,” Cal said, gazing at me out of soulful eyes with more affection than I’d felt from her since we’d got reacquainted.
“Oh, I can vouch for that,” Oscar said, with a wink at her.
And Cal almost smiled, but she caught herself and looked down at her lap. ’Twas good to see a flash of the old Cal there.
The Caliope we’d known had been sweet and saucy, and used to delight in the ribald comments Oscar would make.
She’d even dressed Oscar up in bloomers and a corset one time, like Trick had done this time, to surprise me.
’Twas hard to believe that the Cal we’d known and the Cal who sat near me on the picnic blanket were the same person.
Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t been good, and it hadn’t been what Cal had expected when she’d left The Angel. I could guarantee it.
But she’d become attached to these children, that much was obvious, and they to her, and Cal couldn’t come back to work at Miss June’s with them three to look after, and God only knew where their pa was.
So I didn’t know what to do, except for what we were doing now, which was to feed and help them, so maybe Cal would trust us enough to be truthful.